


I think of you

by SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff without Plot, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Polyamory, Protective Thor (Marvel), Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bladerunnerblue/pseuds/SinpaiCasanova
Summary: Bucky smiles to himself, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up with the start of blush. This is no ordinary storm, he realizes with a start. As magnificent as nature is, lightning doesn’t just arc into a perfectly shaped heart all on its own like that.Not without interference from outside forces, of course.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Thor, Steve Rogers/Thor
Comments: 25
Kudos: 178





	I think of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kahluawmilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahluawmilk/gifts).



It’s quite often that Bucky finds himself here, sitting on the old wooden porch swing that Steve managed to salvage from the local flea market two summers back. The wood, thankfully, is reinforced with steel plates to steadily hold the weight of a metal-armed supersoldier who likes to curl up and nap on the swing like the world's biggest housecat, sanded down and hand-painted a light shade of peach that matches the padded seat cushions adorned with little cartoon pictures of colorful fruit. It's terribly gaudy, but for some strange reason even he can't parse, Bucky adores it to bits.

It was one of the first things he bought for himself after he'd defected from Hydra and Steve whisked him away to this little slice of heavily guarded heaven in rural Indiana. The house itself is small; a quaint little two-bedroom shack with white siding and granny smith apple green shutters that Bucky himself swapped out from their original powder blue. 

He shares this place with Steve when he’s not off avenging the planet, and it’s nice, having him here so often now that Hydra’s been completely wiped off the map. 

The wind chimes lining the side railing of the porch are swaying as the wind softly howls and the rain pings lightly against the aluminum rooftop. There’s thunder rumbling about 20 klicks to the East as well, loudly announcing the arrival of yet another summer storm that will blow in like a hurricane and dissipate just as quickly. 

It’s peaceful, listening to the metallic squeal of the swing as it lazily sways back and forth to the slow tempo Bucky's setting, the wind and thunder playing music on the brass chimes for an audience of one–soon to be two, hopefully, if Bucky’s intuition is correct.

He sighs, relaxing fully against the back of the swing as the breeze picks up some of the rain along with it; lightly dusting the exposed skin of Bucky’s arms and face with tiny beads of rainwater. His long hair is starting to dampen and curl with the rise in humidity, and normally the feeling of his hair sticking to the back of his neck would drive him right up the wall, but he can’t really force himself to care all that much when his attention is off with the lighting currently dancing across the blackened sky.

Bucky smiles to himself, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up with the start of blush. This is no ordinary storm, he realizes with a start. As magnificent as nature is, lightning doesn’t just arc into a perfectly shaped heart all on its own like that.

Not without interference from outside forces, of course.

It’s been a little over a year since Bucky’s seen Thor, or had really any contact with him at all. His visits to Earth are far and few in between now that he has nine realms to look after and a kingdom to rule in his father’s stead. Bucky understands, of course he does, but knowing that a few worlds worth of distance will always be between them in some way or another doesn’t quell the anguish he feels inside when he wakes in the morning and Thor isn’t there beside him.

Steve feels much the same way about it, and Bucky appreciates how jealousy never seems to play a part in this strange little arrangement they have between them. You can’t have a bond as strong as theirs without constant communication and compromise, and even though Bucky didn’t intentionally set out to fall in love with Thor, it still happened, and Steve, being that he is the way he is, went and fell in love with Thor right along with him.

For that, and for many other reasons that stretch back a little over a century, Steve will always have his own special place in Bucky’s heart, and no one else will ever be loved the way he loves Steve. But, having said all that, Bucky still misses Thor when he isn’t around. He thinks of him often, and every time he hears a rumble of thunder or sees a flash of lightning, his heart leaps with excitement, hoping and praying that this will be the day he comes back.

Tonight, it seems, is the night where hopeful prayers muttered in the dark of his bedroom are finally answered. 

The smile on Bucky’s face widens when a crack of thunder firmly shakes the ground, and the flash of multicolored light that brightens the night sky for the moment it’s there is all the warning he’s going to get before a strong gust of wind carries his lover straight to him.

Thor lands feet first on the porch with a dull thud. He's dressed casually in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt that he probably stole from Steve’s closet the last time he was here. Mjolnir is in his right hand, wet and shining with the rain just like Thor’s hair and beard, and he’s just so goddamn beautiful in the glow of the flashing lightning that Bucky feels as though the air has been knocked straight out of his lungs.

“Thor,” Bucky breathes, his blue eyes crinkling with a wide, beaming smile that he only ever freely gives to two people. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back, little one.” Says the god of thunder, the strain in his tone suggesting that staying away from Bucky–and Steve, for that matter–was never an option for him at all. “I promised you that I would, did I not?”

“You did,” Buck murmurs, quickly standing to his feet. “You always do.”

Thor watches him with a hooded gaze, standing only about a foot away from the porch swing, but to Bucky, he might as well have been standing on the other side of the universe, and for a while there, he was.

“ _God_ , I've missed you, sweetheart.” Bucky practically whimpers, closing the distance between them in a few steps that feel more like miles, and then his arms are around Thor’s neck and he’s pulling him close, burying his face into the crook of Thor’s neck to breathe in the addictive smell of his skin.

Thor’s arms are around him as well, squeezing Bucky tightly against his brick wall of a chest just the way he likes it, and Bucky goes boneless with the relief his touch brings once he feels a hand tangle into the back of his hair to pull him back a little.

“I’ve missed you as well, my darling,” Thor rumbles, rubbing the tip of his nose against Bucky’s before he swoops in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Bucky melts like warm butter against him, kissing back with a little more force behind it. Thor groans deeply against Bucky’s mouth and the clank of metal on wood that follows shortly after lets him know that Mjolnir's been carelessly abandoned on the floor by Thor’s feet.

He doesn’t know if sex is on Thor’s mind at all, nor does he really care. The only thing that matters to him is that Thor is _here_ , feverishly kissing his lips red like he’s trying to make up for the times when he couldn’t. Eventually, they break apart to suck in a few ragged breaths, pressing their foreheads together to maintain as much bodily contact as they can. 

It’s been too long since either of them could touch each other, and once they started, stopping is the absolute last thing on their minds right now.

“Where’ve you been, hm?” Bucky asks once he has enough breath to do so without panting out the words. He never knows what Thor gets up to when he’s away, or when and for how long his next visit will be. Thor doesn’t talk about it much, if ever, and Bucky sometimes suspects that it’s because he’s still grieving the loss of his father and mother. He still has Loki by his side, thank God, but that relationship is still pretty complicated and full of unresolved hurt for them both, so in a way, Thor has to bear this burden all on his own.

Bucky wishes he didn’t have to.

“The nine realms fell into chaos when the throne was passed on to me,” Thor murmurs, and there’s a small catch in his voice that suggests everything isn’t quite as restored as it needs to be just yet. “Some rebelled against my rule, tried to start a war with Asgard…” he trails off, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, Bucky can see that his eyelashes are wet and clumping together. He’s crying but trying so hard not to show it. In Thor’s mind, tears would ruin the moment, and this moment has been a year in the making. 

Thor forces a smile, his trembling hands rising up to smooth Bucky’s frizzy hair away from his face. He kisses him, then, and it’s a sad little thing that says more than Thor ever will on his own. “None of it matters now, my love. I’m here, and I want my thoughts to be here with you as well.”

Bucky doesn’t press for answers, knows better than anyone that digging can sometimes cause more hurt than intended. If Thor wants to talk, Bucky will listen. 

“Come sit with me,” Bucky says instead, smiling warmly as he laces the fingers of his right hand with Thor’s left. “You put on a show for me, so let’s watch it for a while, yeah?”

“Alright, little one.” Thor happily concedes, thankful for the distraction. “As you wish.”

Bucky pulls him toward the swing and they sit; Bucky cuddled up next to Thor’s side, not an inch of space between them. Thor wraps his arm around Bucky’s back and pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as the storm of Thor’s making rages on around them.

The swing groans as the sway back and forth, content to just be together for the moment they have. Bucky doesn't want to ask how long Thor will be here. Leaving is inevitable, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean they have to acknowledge it right now. Ignorance is bliss, but willful ignorance, in Bucky’s opinion, is even better.

“Where’s Steven?” Thor eventually asks, breaking the comfortable silence between them; nothing but the wind and the rain, thunder and the light tune of the wind chimes in the background. “He watches the storms with you on occasion, does he not?”

“He does,” Bucky agrees, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Thor’s shirt like a cat seeking affection. Thor gets the hint rather quickly, grinning as he begins to play with Bucky’s soft hair. Bucky practically purrs with contentment. “But you know how he is. Early to bed, early to rise. Drives me up the fuckin' wall how much he acts his age sometimes.”

Thor laughs softly. “Do you wish for me to wake him then?”

“No, not just yet,” Bucky says, face now buried into Thor’s neck. The storm is calming down some, but Thor will keep the thunder and lightning going for as long as Bucky wants him to.

He thinks back to a time when thunder was just another trigger to set him off, how he used to lock himself in the bathroom and curl up in the bathtub with his hands cupped over his ears until the storm eventually passed. Before, thunder reminded him of gunfire and war, of things his scarred mind still hadn’t begun to process properly. But now, the sound of thunder brings him comfort. It means that somewhere out there, someone that loves him beyond words is watching over him, sending messages through the thunder and lightning. 

Now, thunderstorms mean Thor, and Thor means love.

“Let him sleep for a little while longer,” Bucky continues, sighing as he watches a flash of lightning streak across the sky. “The show isn’t over yet, sweetheart, and I don't wanna miss a thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my lifeblood.


End file.
